


Under Lock and Key

by hyungnyan



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: M/M, but mostly just domestic bliss without the wedded part, hyunwoo is a police officer n hyungwon is former model turned daycare teacher, just ur..regular factory standard slice of life fluff stuff, there will b smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyungnyan/pseuds/hyungnyan
Summary: At 26 years old, Hyungwon hadn't expected to settle into domestic bliss with police officer Son Hyunwoo, but he's not complaining.





	1. 1 year and 6 months

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! this does not really have a COHESIVE plot line but a place to dump my domestic au for showhyung! so i hope u enjoy it and if not, i am so sorry and i will give u whatever money i have in my wallet. ANYWAY i've been wanting to write a police officer shownu and daycare teacher hyungwon fic since the day i popped out my mom's womb so here u go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blowjobs??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! this does not really have a COHESIVE plot line but a place to dump my domestic au for showhyung! so i hope u enjoy it and if not, i am so sorry and i will give u whatever money i have in my wallet. ANYWAY i've been wanting to write a police officer shownu and daycare teacher hyungwon fic since the day i popped out my mom's womb so here u go.

            Hyunwoo has always liked Mondays – Wonho had once called that a sign of psychopathic behavior, that he could show up to work at 6 a.m. every Monday with one eye still plastered from sleep and smiling as if he couldn’t wait to file through petty theft reports. Mondays are good, though, because they signal a return to regularity, the reset of a clock, back to a pattern of coffee-interviews-meetings-more coffee-overtime. It helps that Hyunwoo actually likes his job, likes the monotony of paperwork, the patrol shifts, the occasional case that brings a buzz around the office, low and silent like bees, all focusing on answers, motive, conclusions. That had all been before Hyungwon had moved into his apartment, his blue toothbrush next to Hyunwoo’s razor, his socks strewn across the floor, his cologne on all of his work shirts.

  
            Now Mondays mean quieting his alarm before Hyungwon makes a pitiful noise next to him, like a cat roused from sleep, sliding out from under the sheets and listening to his boyfriend snuffle a bit under the comforter. He eats breakfast alone – a bowl of soggy cereal while leaning against the kitchen counter – and rubs the scuffs out of his dress shoes, takes ten minutes buttoning his work shirt with sleep-heavy fingers. Hyungwon always manages to wake up when he’s struggling with the knot on his tie – always too lopsided, too tight, too messy. There’s a domesticity to sitting patiently while your boyfriend, smelling of your fabric softener and wrapped in your cotton sheets, rubs the sleep from his eyes and tugs you down by your tie to knot it. Hyunwoo has taught himself one million times in the mirror but nobody besides Hyungwon, as lethargic and heavy as his gaze is, ties it as neatly as him. Hyungwon is sweet in the morning, tilting his head up to receive a kiss to his temple, to each cheek, his bedhead smoothed down with an affectionate hand.

  
            “Be careful.” Hyungwon’s voice drags with exhaustion, curling his fingers around Hyunwoo’s jaw, lets him kiss his forehead one last time. “Fried chicken for dinner?”

  
            “I’ll cook.” Hyunwoo assures him, watches Hyungwon’s form fold itself to half its size under the comforter again, his hair fanned out on the pillow like something from a fairytale. “Don’t let the kids bully you.”

  
            Hyungwon hums in response, fingers flexing once, twice, on the edge of the sheets before relaxing back into sleep. He falls into slumber as easily as a housecat stretched in the sun, skin warm and pink with life, lashes dark on the top of his smooth cheek. As always, Hyunwoo has to resist calling in sick and peeling off his uniform, sliding back under the sheets and tucking Hyungwon to his chest like some sort of warm, breathing treasure. Instead he locks the door – rattles the handle three times just in case – and heads, as practiced as clockwork, to catch the 5:30 train.

 

* * *

 

  
            A former model turned daycare teacher – Wonho had laughed in his face, spilling coffee all over his case folder, eyeing him with such incredibility that Hyunwoo had wanted to sock him in his perfect nose. “If you’re going to lie about your boyfriend, at least make it realistic.”

  
            In Wonho’s defense, all his pictures of Hyungwon did look like stock photos from a website where he had searched flower boy – caught in a smile, eyes doe-like in front of the camera, clutching a mug of hot chocolate with both hands. Even after Wonho had copiously performed reverse image searching on all of them, he’d refused to believe that Hyunwoo – the department’s Stone Buddha – was dating some boy who seemed to sparkle with energy, cheeks as pink as petals, and was almost disgustingly out of Hyunwoo’s league. It was unbelievable enough for Hyunwoo himself, who often looked at his and Hyungwon’s interlaced fingers with the same reservation an art collector might hold an antique with – like something like this couldn’t possibly be part of this earth and might disintegrate if pressed too hard. They’d only been dating for three months at that time, but Hyunwoo had a constant state of dread stuck in his throat, unable to get past the feeling that their relationship was some act of pity by Hyungwon.

  
            A year and a half now of dating Hyungwon, and Hyunwoo still feels like he’s trapped a butterfly in a jar, pretty and still until it flees the moment the lid is opened. He thinks about it when he sits down at his desk, looks at the stack of files Wonho has tossed on top of already unfinished paperwork. Hyungwon had told him from the start that those kinds of thoughts were unhealthy, gazing at him with an unreadable expression as he picked the meat off a short rib methodically.

  
            “Is that the kind of person you think I am? That I’d date you like you’re some sort of charity case?” He’d asked, cold and almost hurt. Hyunwoo had dropped it, averted his eyes to the plate, looked at the clean bones until Hyungwon cautiously veered towards the subject of a new student in his class. That had been two months into their relationship and, for the most part, Hyunwoo has shed the insecurity off his shoulders. Hyungwon has flaws of his own – bratty, self-destructive, anxious – and Hyunwoo adored them as much as Hyungwon adored the way his boyfriend fumbled, failed to land jokes, stared off halfway through conversations as if short-circuiting. But Hyungwon was beautiful, had effortless charm, and Hyunwoo was Hyunwoo, feeling like his skin was too tight all the time, stretched too far.

  
            “Morning.” Wonho says, staring at his computer screen blankly, emptying a second packet of sugar into his coffee. “I put the Hong case on your desk.”

 

            “You put all of your cases on my desk.” Hyunwoo leafs through them, picks out the Hong one and opens it up on a mugshot. “But I’ll take this one. Get the rest of your crap off my desk.”

  
            “Ai ai, captain.” Wonho mutters, not moving from where he’s started a game of Minesweeper.

  
            The Hong case should have been open and shut – assigned to Wonho a week ago, evidence against petty drug peddler Hong Seungwoo almost pitifully overwhelming. The guy didn’t have a chance in hell until he’d fled off their radar before they were able to make the arrest. His girlfriend wasn’t talking and his mother was equally tight lipped with expressions hardened with exhaustion as if they had done this one million times, cleaned up Hong’s mess, but still unwilling to give him up. They’d gotten as far as a credit card charge in Busan two weeks ago before he’d finally cleaned up his tracks, careful not to leave behind a trail of breadcrumbs. At that point, it’d gotten thrown onto Wonho’s desk and subsequently Hyunwoo’s, who always got the scraps.

  
            “You creep me out when you smile in the morning.” Wonho’s window blinks when he clicks on a mine, swearing under his breath before restarting. “Although I’d probably smile like an idiot if I woke up to a fucking model every day.”

  
            Hyunwoo’s neck goes warm, his ears flushing pink as he hurries himself with the Hong file. “He’s a daycare teacher, not a model.”

  
            “Used to be a model and now he devotes his daily life to working with children? It sounds fake and I still think he’s secretly a hired escort.” Wonho’s eyebrows furrow when he clicks on another mine, knocking down a cup full of stubby pencils. “Whenever you run out of money, give me his business card.”

  
            Wonho has met Hyungwon plenty of times – at department holiday parties, for dinners at Hyunwoo’s apartment, after-work drinks. Hyunwoo can only attribute his bitterness to the way Hyungwon responds to his advances like pushing away a slobbering dog, face always pinched into an expression of annoyance the moment Wonho drapes himself near them. Wonho has some sort of complex about Hyungwon, as if it’s some great sin that Hyunwoo is dating a former model and he hasn’t gotten laid in close to three months now. After a while, it gets easy to tune out his complaints – _out of your league, Hyunwoo, he’s an eleven and you’re pushing a negative five_ – and now listening to Wonho whine under his breath about his own pitiful love life is like listening to a comforting song over the radio. He’s doing it again now, starting his fourth game of Minesweeper, still rubbing the early morning sand from his eyes.

  
            “I’m almost ready to start online dating.” Wonho huffs, moving onto Spider Solitaire, pointedly ignoring the paperwork on his desk. “Somebody with this face shouldn’t have to use OkCupid, it’s a tragic waste of natural resources.”

  
            “Really up there with coal mining.” Hyunwoo mutters back, flipping through the last few pages of the file again before giving up. If it makes it down to his desk, then it’s probably already a lost cause and Hong is already out of their line of sight, maybe futzing around in Japan or hiding out in the countryside till the dust clears. There’s not much Hyunwoo can do at this point besides hope that Hong makes the mistake of walking outside of the police building, like Bigfoot caught mid-photo. But he can’t tell his boss that at the nine o’clock briefing later so he settles for making up excuses in his head about why nobody is wasting their time trying to track down Hong Seungwoo.

  
            He always tends to get too carried away with his thoughts, almost misses the last ring of his line before he picks up the phone. Wonho shoots him a look of annoyance over his shoulder, as if the phone has caused him to lose his tenth game of Solitaire. “Seoul Seocho Police Station, this is Officer Son.”

  
            “What are you wearing, Officer Son? You sound hot.” Hyungwon’s voice crackles over the phone, punctuated with a laugh as if he can see how Hyunwoo’s face immediately flusters, turns hot and red. Wonho narrows his eyes in suspicion, as if he has some sort of seventh sense in sniffing out Hyungwon, flicking his gaze towards the Caller ID when Hyunwoo moves to cover it up in embarrassment. He shields the mouthpiece as if it’ll make it any quieter, but Wonho is already leaning over his shoulder, trying to shove his cheek against the ear piece.

  
            “Hyungwon, this is a monitored line.” He really tries to sound strict but it comes out squeaked while Wonho looks positively gleeful. “Are you okay?”

  
            “You’re always so serious.” Hyungwon hums fondly. “My big, strong Officer Son—what are you doing for lunch?”

  
            “I was just going to buy a sandwich from the vending machine.” Hyunwoo really wishes he didn’t say it because it comes off as absolutely pathetic, enough to earn a pitied noise from his boyfriend and mocking frown from Wonho. “What are you doing?”

  
            “Washing dishes from the kids’ morning snack.” Hyungwon adjusts the phone on his shoulder as Hyunwoo listens to the sound of running water in the background. “Can I bring you lunch?”

  
            Hyunwoo doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sort of domestic bliss that comes with Hyungwon bringing him lunch during his break. He used to survive on a diet of dry peanut butter sandwiches from the vending machine and coffee thick as sludge, enough to make even the saddest bachelor grateful for constant take-out and leftovers. Hyungwon can hardly cook himself, but he pays careful attention to what Hyunwoo likes to eat: containers of Thai curry, plastic tubs of seafood stew and fresh rice that spill steam when their tops are opened, kimbap from the corner restaurant wrapped clumsily in plastic. His heart always climbs up into his throat when Hyungwon pushes his way through the main doors, charms his way past the front desk to Hyunwoo’s cubicle, his lips curled into that familiar, fond smile whenever he sees his boyfriend.

  
            “Only if you have the time.” Hyunwoo tries not to get his hopes up, keeps his voice level, but it’s only two hours into work and he misses his boyfriend (Wonho calls it whipped but he wouldn’t know romance if it bit him in his perfect ass).

  
            Hyungwon laughs again, bright as holiday bells. “I wouldn’t offer to bring it unless I had the time. I’ll see you later—wait, Officer Son, you never told me what you were wearing. Have you finally taken my suggestion of making assless chaps part of the uniform?”

  
            Hyunwoo slams the phone down before Hyungwon gets any further.

* * *

 

  
            “Should I have the kids make sandwiches next week?” Hyungwon asks, wiggling his toes where they rest in Hyunwoo’s lap, staring down at his lesson plan like he’s trying to decipher hieroglyphics. “Like—the little roll up ones? For craft time?”

  
            “Does it matter?” Hyunwoo asks, squeezes Hyungwon’s knee affectionately as he changes the channel for the fifth time – news, news, bad news, more news, until he settles on a drama rerun of some show they’d watched together last fall. “It’s not like they’ll remember it anyway.”

  
            Hyungwon’s face crinkles in annoyance, sitting up to box Hyunwoo across the ear with his pen. “They’re toddlers, not zygotes, you asshole.”

  
            When they’d moved in together, they’d pooled their money together to buy a bigger couch so they could spend the night like this, their long legs all tangled and the television flickering with evening advertisements. Hyunwoo’s old couch had been a relic of his college years and, having suffered copious amounts of staining from his roommate Minhyuk’s sexual escapades, had promptly been tossed curbside once he’d started dating Hyungwon. As for Hyungwon’s couch, it was almost endearingly small (his old roommate, Kihyun, had bought it and vehemently defended that _it was not a couch made for ant people, but people of national average height, you ten foot tall dick_ ) and Hyungwon had to curl his legs up tight in order to squeeze himself onto it. Splurging on a couch made them sound like a married couple but it had been one of the first things they’d done once they’d gotten serious.

  
            At age 26, Hyungwon hadn’t really expected himself to be picking out sectionals at Ikea – at least, he’d tried too but ended up falling asleep on one of the display mattresses while leaving Hyunwoo to pick out the couch. Hyungwon had modeled after university, his education degree neatly tucked away in his closet while he wore sample pieces and had powder dusted along the bridge of his nose at Seoul Fashion Week. He’d certainly had the face, long legs, and stylishly awkward gait of a fawn – even now, Hyunwoo could search Hyungwon’s name and find relics of old magazine spreads, backstage candids with liner smudged on his lash line, adverts for online stores. But at age 26, Hyungwon is buying couches from Ikea and enjoying the lull of domesticity, of tangling legs in bed with Hyunwoo, of stealing kisses in the cereal aisle when they go grocery shopping.

  
            Hyungwon shifts next to him, moving to fit himself against Hyunwoo’s side, his legs folded up like a moth’s wings. “You look tired lately.”

  
            “You always look tired.” Hyunwoo brushes his thumb over Hyungwon’s cheekbone and the soft, sleepy bags under his eyes. “Have the kids been good to you?”

  
            “I came out of the womb looking sick and sleep deprived.” Hyungwon’s face pinches in annoyance, moving to playfully snap his teeth at Hyunwoo’s fingers. “I’m trying to worry about you here.”

  
            Hyunwoo finishes the conversation with a kiss, lets Hyungwon shift into his lap with practiced ease – they’ve done this one hundred, one thousand times, almost second nature when he slides his hands up underneath Hyungwon’s shirt. When they’d first started dating, Hyunwoo had bumped noses and clashed teeth with Hyungwon each time they’d tried to kiss; now kissing him is like breathing, one hand on his hip and the other grazing fingers over the pulse point of his neck. Hyungwon seems to melt in his grip, fingers curling affectionately in Hyunwoo’s hair as he draws him in again, tastes like the glass of wine he’d had with dinner – sweet and a little dizzying.

  
            “I wanna suck you off.” Hyungwon nips at Hyunwoo’s lower lip, pulls away to catch his breath.  There’s a wild sort of beauty to Hyungwon when he’s like this, eyes dark and cheeks flushed high, fingers dragging down the front of Hyunwoo’s chest in anticipation. Hyunwoo wishes he could have him like this forever, all vulnerable and soft to the touch, curling into Hyunwoo’s warmth and scent as sweetly as a housecat. He fumbles with the zipper of Hyunwoo’s jeans, gives up with yanking them down his hips in favor of pulling out his cock over the band of his boxers. Hyunwoo always flushes whenever Hyungwon insists he has a particularly pretty cock, a dusky pink against his skin and the dark patch of hair under his hips, heavy in his palm.

 

            He’s hardly in a mood to tease, drags his fingers underneath the base of Hyunwoo’s cock just to hear his breath hitch, to feel Hyunwoo’s hands slide through his hair encouragingly. It only takes a few kitten licks to the head of his dick to make Hyunwoo’s nails scrape over his scalp, scratch behind his ears in encouragement. He always considers it a feat when he gets half of Hyunwoo’s cock in at once, heavy on his tongue with the taste of skin and soap. Hyunwoo makes a low noise, a little animalistic, when he sees the outline of the head bulging against Hyungwon’s cheek. Hyungwon swallows him down a bit more and places his palm on Hyunwoo’s hip to steady himself, thumb pressed to the sharp ridge of his pubic bone.

  
            Hyungwon’s eyes are bright and wide when he stares up at Hyunwoo, smiles around his dick (it seems almost unreal that he can look so cute going down on him) before pulling off with a sharp intake of breath, lips wet with pre-cum and spit. “I don’t remember you being this big.”

  
            “Ego stroking will get you nowhere.” Hyunwoo croaks, ears burning with embarrassment as Hyungwon laughs, presses his nose against his pubic hair. Hyungwon switches so rapidly between sweet and sex kitten, rubbing his cheek against the side vein of Hyunwoo’s cock before taking it in again, a little deeper, a little more of a struggle. Hyungwon exhales sharply through his nose, and Hyunwoo swears he’s going to cum right there, watching Hyungwon nuzzle against the hand that cups his cheek, but Hyungwon’s nails dig into his skin – not yet, a little longer. It’s late and he’s tired and wants to cum, has to stop himself from jerking his hips up and fucking properly into Hyungwon’s mouth. Hyungwon seems to get it though, moving his hand from Hyunwoo’s hip to his stomach, fingers splayed to prop himself up. It only takes a few eager fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and Hyungwon’s tongue flat along the length of it to finally finish, hips lifting off the couch despite how Hyungwon tries to push him back.

  
            Hyungwon’s nose crinkles when he swallows, mouth shiny and swollen under the blue light of the television. “You finish faster than you used to.”

  
            Hyunwoo doesn’t have the energy to be offended, petting Hyungwon’s hair sweetly even though it feels hardly romantic with his dick still out of his jeans. “You used to be able to deep throat me.”

  
            “Yes, but that was a year ago and now I’m too old and frail for it.” Hyungwon sighs dramatically, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and making another face. “Did you always taste this gross?”

  
            “I’m glad you haven’t lost your charm with old age, babe.” Hyunwoo kisses his damp forehead, moves to get off the couch on cramping legs. Hyungwon follows him into the bedroom, muttering about brushing the taste of dick out of his mouth tomorrow morning and burrows himself under the covers. Hyunwoo takes his time getting ready for bed before climbing in after, slotting himself behind Hyungwon and dragging him a little closer by his waist. His boyfriend’s voice of protest dies into a pleased sigh when Hyunwoo slips his hand back under Hyungwon’s shirt, spreading his fingers over the soft skin of his stomach. Hyungwon will probably castrate him tomorrow morning for not forcing him to brush his teeth the night before but for now, Hyunwoo takes solace in the clean scent of his hair, the way he seems to purr in his sleep as he’s held.

  
            “Love you.” Hyunwoo kisses the shell of Hyungwon’s ear and buries his face against his shoulder.

  
            Hyungwon aims an ill-intentioned kick towards Hyunwoo’s stomach. “I’m trying to fucking sleep.”


	2. 3 months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bellybutton piercing cometh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the very beginning i told myself i would give hyungwon a bellybutton piercing and here we are. sorry if u don't like it but too fuckin bad. the bellybutton piercing is canon and u can suck my ass. anyway, a look back @ the beginning of their relationship! also thigh riding yeehaw ride 'em hyungnyan
> 
> a special thank u to my friend who edited this and also my princess kitten paw angel sweetie san, whom the l-word scene is inspired by and whom i love with all of my heart!!

Hyungwon had never been a  _ wild _ person, even when he was in college, even during his brief modeling career. He’d done his fair share of clubbing, an occasional one night stand when he was a university freshman, puked in a bar bathroom after taking too many tequila shots. But he’d grown out of that phase once he’d hit his junior year, to a point where his roommate had to physically drag him from bed to make him go out. When he’d modeled, he’d lingered at after parties and sipped the same champagne flute all night -- modeling had been lonely for him, never quite fitting into the schedule the other models seemed to run on: after-parties, binge drinking, recreational drugs. It wasn’t that he was  _ opposed _ to it but personally, all Hyungwon wanted to do after a runway show was scrub the make-up off his face and take a twelve hour nap, waking up to find his eyes ringed in smeared eyeliner.

 

Hyunwoo knew these things about him, that Hyungwon had what Minhyuk affectionately called ‘ _ the energy and personality of my 90 year old grandfather _ .’ Hyunwoo liked that about Hyungwon, liked his sleepiness and his softness, that his idea of a wild night was drinks at a university bar and then falling asleep watching Saturday Night Live. Hyungwon still had his playful streak, his tendencies to rile Hyunwoo up and tease him, but he wasn’t so fast pace that Hyunwoo couldn’t keep up. Hyunwoo had been prepared for surprises when dating a former model -- he wasn’t sure  _ what _ but such a different realm from police work had worried him, that Hyungwon would be hiding a wild streak underneath his sleepy gaze. Three months into officially dating Hyungwon and Hyunwoo had gotten past that point, thoroughly convinced that his boyfriend had revealed everything, spread everything onto the surface.

 

That was what he so woefully believed until he’d discovered Hyungwon’s belly button piercing, shining under the lamp light like a fucking lighthouse.

 

It was a  _ piercing _ , a lot different than a full-back tattoo, but when Hyunwoo had pushed Hyungwon’s shirt up and saw something glinting from the soft dip of his stomach, his hands had tightened around the fabric instinctively. “Is this--?”

 

“Oh.” Hyungwon was breathless, blinking the haze from his eyes before pursing his lips, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, it’s-- I had it done in university.”

 

Hyunwoo really wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened and shove his hand back down Hyungwon’s jeans but he couldn’t, too fixated on how the tiny moon-shaped gem on Hyungwon’s piercing glittered, crystal-blue and bright against his skin. It was  _ hot _ . He felt like a teenage boy, getting himself worked up over seeing the stretch of a guy’s midriff when he reached for a book on the shelf; all flustered when their school shirt would ride up just the littlest bit. He was twenty-seven, too old to be getting lightheaded over a belly button piercing but it was so unexpected, especially given the fact that he’d seen Hyungwon’s stomach quite a few times but never this.

 

“I have to take out my piercings for work since the kids grab them but it’s a surface piercing, so I have to make sure it doesn’t close.” Hyungwon looks at Hyunwoo’s hand still spread over the flat plain of his stomach and grows a little wary. “Do you not like it or something?”

 

“No.” Hyunwoo blurts out, then backtracks when Hyungwon looks even more taken aback. “It’s just-- I don’t know, I’m surprised. I’ve never seen it.”

 

“It’s annoying to take care of, I try to avoid putting it back in. It used to be fun in university but with work, I always forget to take care of it until it’s about to close up.” Hyungwon mutters, moving to play with the charm that dangles so casually off his midriff like it’s nothing, like Hyunwoo’s face isn’t getting hot and his throat isn’t getting choked up. It’s so little and pretty against Hyungwon’s stomach and he, Hyunwoo, dubbed the most vanilla person on the entire force by Wonho, wants to put his mouth on it. “I had a fake one for a photoshoot and liked the look of it so I got it pierced.”

 

Hyunwoo has to forcefully peel his eyes from Hyungwon’s stomach to look at his face. “I just thought I would have seen it by now.”

 

“I usually put a piercing in when I’m staying at home for the weekend since it’s less hassle.” Hyungwon’s eyes narrow a bit, as if Hyunwoo is stringing him along, waiting to drop the bomb that he finds bellybutton piercings absolutely horrifying. “I didn’t think we were hooking up tonight. I wasn’t sure what you thought about-- stuff like this. You’re kind of uptight.”

 

Hyungwon smiles after he catches the fall of Hyunwoo’s expression -- sweet and fond. “I’m kidding, hyung. You’re not uptight. I just worry I push you sometimes.”

 

Honestly, Hyunwoo wants to be offended but he knows he gives off that vibe, like anything that delves outside of missionary position and handholding is sacrilegious. His sexual history isn’t exactly overflowing with material for Penthouse Magazine but he’s not a complete square -- at least, that’s not what he thinks, given the fact that Hyungwon’s stupid little piercing is getting him almost wildly turned on. 

 

“You don’t push me.”  Before Hyungwon can stop him, he’s reaching to thumb at it, slides his fingers over the cold metal, listens to his boyfriend inhale sharply and exhale a tiny whimper.  _ Oh _ . That’s new. He doesn’t move his hand, fingers splayed over Hyungwon’s stomach.  “Is that okay? Are you sensitive or--?”

 

Hyungwon’s cheeks flush, he turns his face away so Hyunwoo can’t see how his pupils have blown. “I’ve always had a sensitive stomach, the piercing just--”

 

“Yeah?” Hyunwoo asks, he can’t help himself from soothing his thumb over it again, watches Hyungwon hips lift off the bed with a startled noise. “You’re  _ really _ sensitive.”

 

“It’s not  _ that _ bad.” Hyungwon insists, pushes back against his chest playfully. “Sit back, I wanna… just sit.”

 

Hyungwon slinks out of his grip, cheeks flushed with warmth, pushes him down with a palm to his chest. Hyunwoo swears his head might explode when Hyungwon throws one of those long, pretty legs over his thigh, seats himself there like he belongs, hard and warm against Hyunwoo’s leg. He slides his hands up Hyungwon’s waist, pushes his shirt past his chest because he wants to see it, glinting and pretty against the soft curve of his stomach, nestled against the dip of his belly button. Hyungwon’s lip catches between his teeth and he steadies himself with a hand on Hyunwoo’s shoulder, grinding himself down -- slow, deliberate, arching his back in that pretty way Hyunwoo likes. Hyunwoo presses his thumb to Hyungwon’s piercing and feels nails dig into his skin, watches Hyungwon’s eyes roll back, hips stuttering. Hyunwoo hardly has to get off, just needs to feel the tremble in Hyungwon’s stomach each time he takes his piercing between his fingers, just needs to see Hyungwon’s legs shake with the strain of riding his thigh.

 

“Good?” Hyunwoo asks and his voice scratches like gravel. He tugs on the little gem that blinks under the light and the whimper Hyungwon makes goes straight to his cock, the way he looks so fucking wrecked grinding himself down on Hyunwoo’s thigh. “You think you can-- get off like this?”

 

“Yeah-- yeah, I can.” Hyungwon laughs, already sounding broken, kisses Hyunwoo’s cheek before steadying himself again. “I love your thighs so much-- you’re so strong.”

 

Hyunwoo’s neck flushes, watches Hyungwon’s gaze soften at him, his hand slipping briefly to rub his thumb where he’d kissed his cheek. “Are you ever going to learn to take a compliment, Hyunwoo?”

 

“Hard to do when you’re grinding my thigh.” Hyunwoo chokes out and Hyungwon laughs and bites back a mewl when Hyunwoo’s thumb rubs circles against his piercing. “Just relax.”

 

_ I’m trying _ is what Hyungwon wants to snap back but he’s melting under Hyunwoo, who has one hand on his hip and the other pressing down harder on the dip of his stomach, tugging the little moon gem between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, Hyungwon thinks, that he’s going to get off like this, but Hyunwoo’s hand on his piercing makes his stomach tie in knots, makes him press himself harder, faster, a little sloppily down on Hyunwoo’s thigh. He feels like his fucking head is going to pop and it’s one million degrees and then Hyunwoo’s fingers lift, pull away, and he’s suddenly dunked in cold water.

 

“What are you--  _ Hyunwoo-ah _ !” Hyungwon shrieks when Hyunwoo lifts him with such ease that he gets practically thrown back down on the bed, kicks his legs a bit pathetically. Hyunwoo pins him down by his hips and presses his mouth, those fucking  _ lips _ , on his piercing and Hyungwon sees white. Hyungwon thrashes pitifully under him when he tugs it between his teeth before he goes limp, so pliant and soft underneath his boyfriend. Hyunwoo is usually gentle but he seems to enjoy this power over him, the way he can make Hyungwon’s toes curl, can work him down to nothing but choked noises in the back of his throat. If he’d known about the piercing, had known he could get Hyungwon off with a few nips to the soft, vulnerable stretch of his stomach, then he would have done it ages ago. So he takes his time now, enjoys listening to Hyungwon claw at the sheets, feeling his hips lift off the bed before dropping again feebly -- he’s ruined his boyfriend so perfectly. A palm to the front of Hyungwon’s jeans and sucking a bruise above his bellybutton is all it takes for Hyungwon to dig his nails into Hyunwoo’s scalp, pulling his hair so hard that Hyunwoo’s eyes tear up. At his age, he’d considered graduating from police academy and buying his own apartment to be his biggest accomplishment. All of that pales in front of watching Hyungwon bite so hard on his lower lip that it blooms red with blood, sobbing his name like it’s a mantra -- Hyunwoo, Hyunwoo,  _ hyung _ .

 

“Did you...?” Hyunwoo asks once Hyungwon’s breath subsides, rubing his thumb sweetly against Hyungwon’s inner thigh. Hyungwon makes a low noise before hiding his face into the pillow, muscles still tense.

 

“I can’t believe I came in my pants like a fucking teenage boy.” Hyungwon moans into the pillow but doesn’t move, he lets Hyunwoo kiss his stomach one more time, a little peck above the sharp juncture of his pubic bone. “This is embarrassing.”

 

“It was really hot.” Hyunwoo promises, smoothing down Hyungwon’s hair until he’s finally sitting up, shoulders hunched. “Want water?”

 

“No.” Hyungwon mutters, climbing into Hyunwoo’s lap with the self-assuredness of a housecat used to getting its way. “I didn’t think you had such a thing for piercings.”

 

“I don’t-- something about your stomach and that little gem.” Hyunwoo tries to explain but then he’s thinking about it again, Hyungwon’s shirt shoved up past his chest, the little glinting moon. He’s about to start this all over again if Hyungwon isn’t careful. “I just wanted to put my mouth on it.”

 

“Cute.” Hyungwon purrs, kisses Hyunwoo’s nose before flinging his arms around his neck. “I’m going to shower and you’re going to find me clean clothes to wear or I’ll rub these disgusting jeans all over you.”

 

“Who knows what I’m going to do if I see you wearing my clothes, honey?” Hyunwoo is only half-kidding, thinking about Hyungwon’s legs peeking out from under his old gym shirt is getting him all bothered again. Hyungwon knees him not-too-gently in the stomach before slinking out of his lap into the bathroom, legs shaking as he slams the door with purpose. Hyunwoo picks out the least offensive sleep shirt he has for Hyungwon and considers dousing his dick in ice water before his boyfriend is out of the shower.

* * *

 

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Minhyuk says immediately, eyes narrowed and accusing, sitting in a child-size chair folding construction paper. Hyungwon blinks once, twice, before narrowing his gaze right back at him -- it’s too early to be doing this and he’d almost missed his train to work, he hasn’t had his coffee yet. He’d spent the rest of the weekend at Hyunwoo’s apartment (as it turns out, Hyunwoo is absolutely unable to keep his hands to himself when he sees his boyfriend wearing his clothes) and couldn’t quite remember what line to take from Seocho to the daycare.

 

“Like  _ what _ ?” Hyungwon groans, sliding a hand down his face and sinks into the chair next to Minhyuk, the stretch of his legs nearly knocking the whole play table over.

 

Minhyuk heaves another sigh and tosses his safety scissors down dramatically. “I would have never set you and Hyunwoo up if I knew you were gonna keep showing up to work with that gross  _ I-just-got-banged _ face. It’s nasty.”

 

“I’m not sure why you don’t expect me to have sex with my boyfriend, you must have taken that into consideration when you gave him my number.” Hyungwon rolls his eyes because it’s 7:30 in the morning and Minhyuk is kicking up a temper tantrum. He won’t let it go that Hyunwoo and Hyungwon are dating due to his matchmaking skills and he’s still spending his weekends with MILF porn and take-out pizza. “Are we making cards?”

 

“I can forgive the plowing you got but did his dick scatter your brain?” Minhyuk wails because this is  _ unfair _ ; his college roommate is getting so much ass and he’s the one getting punished. “I sent you the lesson plan on Friday night. We’re making construction paper fish.”

 

“All your pent-up frustration is making you into such a mean little hobbit.” Hyungwon groans, fingering a piece of red paper before dropping it. “Fuck, right. We were reading _The_ _Rainbow Fish_.” 

 

“Unbelievable. Make your own fucking fish, Hyungwon.” Minhyuk grumbles under his breath, pasteing a handful of blue paper scales onto his fish template. The scowl on his face immediately lifts when their first kid arrives, an early comer named Dohyun whose mom works early shifts and drops him off a half hour early for care. He waddles in, stuffed into a humorously puffy winter coat, struggling with the zipper while his mother calls apologies and goodbyes from the doorway, already rushing back to her car. It’s a routine they have with all the children -- first Dohyun, who still hasn’t learned how to unzip his own coat and practically gets kicked out of his mother’s car. Then Hayoung, who shrieks their names loudly --  _ Teacher Min, Teacher Won! _ \-- while her father chases after her, trying to wrestle her out of her Frozen-print parka. The rest seem to pile in and by the time it’s 8 o’clock, Jooheon has arrived late with Starbucks spilled down his shirt ( _ sorry, sorry, sorry, I needed coffee, sorry _ ) and everybody is sitting down for their morning snack. Minhyuk seems to have forgiven Hyungwon at this point, even lets him steal his fish template to set up for their first craft of the day.

 

Hyungwon likes working at the daycare -- it’s busy work but he loves children, loves their cute rosy cheeks and the way they fumble to say his name, their crooked smiles and hands that tangle in the hem of his shirt to ask for attention. His parents had thought he was too shy, too withdrawn to properly deal with kids, had cast a shadow of doubt on his early education degree. But Hyungwon is great with the shy children and he leaves the high-energy kids to run circles around Minhyuk and Jooheon. He always waits for the regret to settle into his bones, to ask himself why he’d given up a modeling career, shut all his doors of opportunity; it never seems to come, not even now, when he looks down to find his new shirt has finger-paint smeared all over it.

 

By the time lunch rolls around, Hyungwon is ready for their nap -- half the kids are already asleep and poor Daeyoung has just slumped over, snoring against his rice bowl. When they’re finished eating, he collects the trays and considers siphoning the spilled coffee off of Jooheon’s sweater to get some caffeine. He leaves the two of them to wrangle the kids up for brushing their teeth and carries an armful of dishes out of the classroom into the kitchen next door. He nearly topples over Hyunwoo, who is sitting by the children’s shoes looking like his mother abandoned him at daycare.

 

“Hyung?” Hyungwon blinks, almost drops all of the trays in surprise. Not only is his boyfriend here, he’s also in uniform and looking at him with that unsure bunny smile he likes so much. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Thought I’d come say hi to you at work, I was patrolling the area and-- is it a bad time?” Hyunwoo looks a little sheepish but Hyungwon swears his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time a boyfriend visited him at work -- never, probably, unless he’s talking about the guys he dated as a model, who stopped by runway shows to try to get into after parties. He feels  _ stupid _ but his stomach is twisting. He feels light-headed when Hyunwoo fumbles to his feet and gently slips the trays into his own arms.

 

“You’re so sweet.” Hyungwon sighs, pressing a kiss to Hyunwoo’s cheek, breathes the smell of his cologne and aftershave. “Sorry you have to see me when I’m a mess.”

 

“You never look like a mess.” Hyunwoo smiles again, eyes curling into crescent moons, even though Hyungwon knows he has blue paint on his cheek and the hem of his shirt is wet from grabby hands that didn’t dry after washing. “You’re really charming when you’re with kids.”

 

_ God _ , he’s so cute and Hyungwon would kiss him silly if there weren’t a dozen kids in the next room. Hyunwoo trails after him obediently when he takes the trays back and pads into the kitchen with him. It’s naptime and quiet -- he always does dish duty because he likes the sound of water spray and the cool white walls of the kitchen. He traps Hyunwoo against the counter, even though he’s a waif compared to him, pulls him down for the kiss he’s wanted to give him the last few minutes. Hyunwoo’s hands settle on his hips, easy as clockwork, gives him a fond expression that makes Hyungwon melt. He’s never been this lovesick before but it’s nice, warm, comforting.

 

“Were you really doing patrol around here or did you just miss me? Because I’m pretty sure this area is out of your jurisdiction.” Hyungwon grins, raises his eyebrows when Hyunwoo splutters, neck turning red. “I do feel a lot safer now that you’re here.”

 

“Those kids could be dangerous, you don’t know that.” Hyunwoo mumbles, sounding so serious that Hyungwon laughs out loud, claps his hand over his mouth. Hyunwoo loves him like this, bright and playful, the way his cheeks seem to glow when he smiles. He’s not sappy, he really isn’t, it’s just that Hyungwon is captivating when he doesn’t mean to be and it makes Hyunwoo a little dizzy at times, like he’s running circles to catch up to him. He’s hesitant to admit when Minhyuk does things right, just because he never lets it go for as long as he lives, but he did it right this time. He’d been incredibly doubtful when they’d first been set up (he’d been woefully nervous about meeting a  _ former model _ for dinner) but now, holding small and sweet Hyungwon against his chest, he has the overwhelming urge to kiss Minhyuk’s feet.

 

“Have you eaten?” Hyungwon asks, cups his cheek with an unsure smile. “We don’t have much left but-- I can get you some rice and side dishes… maybe soup, if we have some left.”

 

“I’ll grab something on my way home, it’s my lunch break anyway.” Hyunwoo presses his thumb against Hyungwon’s hip, slides his hand past his shirt. “Just wanted to come say hi to you.”

 

“Be careful.” Hyungwon warns and bites back a smile, pecking his nose before pulling back. “I don’t want to get in trouble with Minhyuk. We’ve been on thin ice since one of the kids asked if my hickey was a bug bite.”

 

Hyunwoo ducks his head sheepishly, hides his face against Hyungwon’s hair. “I’ll leave before I cause more trouble.”

 

“You probably should. The kids just learned about policemen and will probably trample you if they see your badge.” Hyungwon fingers it, holds it in his palm -- heavy and cold to the touch. It’s strange, to feel this vulnerable for another person; Hyungwon is the kind of person that shies away from making himself in need of protection. Hyunwoo makes him want to bare things a little more, to stop steeling up his shoulders and shrugging away help. He can’t help it, moving to peck his cheek again before pulling back. “I like you, hyung. You know?”

 

“I hope so.” Hyunwoo sounds a little bewildered, sliding his fingers down his face. “I like you too.”

 

“I like like you.” Hyungwon urges, tugs on his collar to straighten it out. “I-- you know. I feel…”

 

“Yeah?” Hyunwoo asks, smooths down Hyungwon’s messy hair, and he knows. He knows what’s on the tip of Hyungwon’s tongue, what’s there but not ready to bubble up. Knows him so well, already, just three months and knows how the gears in Hyungwon’s head move, so strangely but so systematically. “I do too.”

 

Hyungwon swallows, feels his head swim because they’ll get there soon. Just not yet -- the other  _ l-word _ lies beneath the surface but it’s not ready to come to head yet and that’s fine. They’re both  _ fine _ . “Yeah? Good.”

 

Hyunwoo punctuates it with a kiss to his temple, sweeps his hair from his forehead. “Get back there before Minhyuk sacrifices me to the kids.”

 

Hyunwoo leads him back with a hand on his waist, warm and calloused, fingers pushed past the hem of his shirt. Hyungwon thinks he could get used to this, this bit of vulnerability he shows Hyunwoo. It gets tiring to take care of himself all the time and build walls up so high that he’s too scared to look over the edge. Hyunwoo is solid, gentle, dependable comfort and Hyungwon thinks he’s finally ready for that. It’s a sweet thought, melts on his tongue, makes his stomach feel fizzy even after Hyunwoo has left after another kiss goodbye. Hyungwon floats for the rest of the day -- Minhyuk deems the smile on his face even worse than his  _ post-banging _ expression and punishes him to clean-up after a particularly messy glitter craft.

  
Minhyuk can be as sour as he wants because when the day ends, Hyungwon has tumbled back against Hyunwoo’s chest, welcomed and safe. Hyunwoo is not so welcoming of the silver glitter Hyungwon lives in streaks on his freshly-pressed uniform.


	3. 6 months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hyunwoo is defeated by a minuscule flu virus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to natalie for betaing! dedicating this chapter to my sweetest angel baby jaan sahinya, who helped me and encouraged me through finishing this hell chapter!

There are three things Hyunwoo notices when he wakes up: one being that he’s going to puke his guts out any second now, two being the fact that the sun is way too bright, and three being that his phone won’t stop fucking ringing. He blinks against the light before leaning over the bed and retching, his mouth stinging from the taste of acid and eyes burning with tears. _Fuck_. He knew he should have gotten a flu shot this season, especially after it had knocked a few officers out of commission, including Wonho. He’d justified it by the fact that he never got sick, even as a child, somehow impervious to whatever virus seemed to decimate immune systems each year. Apparently, he realizes as he scrubs sand from his eyes and feebly tugs his vomit-stained shirt off, he is not impervious to the flu.

 

His phone won’t stop ringing. After he’s scrubbed his mouth clean and ripped the sheets from his bed, he finally answers. “Hello?”

 

“What the fuck?” Hyungwon snaps and Hyunwoo winces, like he’s taken a bullet to the chest. “I waited at the theater for you for like-- 2 hours and then you wouldn’t answer your phone and I was freaking the hell out.”

 

“Hyungwon.” Hyunwoo chokes out, sliding his palm down his face, wincing when it comes back sweaty. Gross. “Hyungwon, please, just… be quiet.”

 

For his credit, Hyungwon does go silent before he lowers his voice, heavy with concern. “Hyunwoo-- Hyung, are you okay? You sound like shit.”

 

Hyunwoo’s mind finally catches up to the fact that Hyungwon waited for two hours and that they were supposed to have a date, which means it’s like three in the afternoon and he’s slept for nearly half a _day_. “Oh-- fuck, Won, I’m sorry, I just woke up and threw up, I don’t even know what time it is.”

 

“You threw up?” Hyungwon asks, tone still tender and unsure. “Do you want me to come over?”

 

“No, no, I’m fine.” Hyunwoo answers, dragging a hand down his face, even though he knows he won’t be able to get out of bed. “Just head back home, we’ll reschedule.”

 

“You’re not fine.” Hyungwon makes a fumbled noise on the other end, sounding too steely to argue against. “I’ll be over in a bit with medicine. Stay in bed, okay? Don’t move.”

 

Hyungwon hangs up with an abrupt _okayloveyoubye_ and Hyunwoo sits, dazed and a little warmed by his boyfriend’s willingness to drop everything for him. It’s not as if Hyungwon is cold and unfeeling; this is something Hyungwon isn’t obligated to do, yet he’s doing it anyway. The least Hyunwoo can do is obediently lean his head against the side of his mattress and try not to pass out by counting the dust motes that float in front of him. He can’t remember what day it is and what time he was supposed to meet Hyungwon and even what movie they were supposed to see. He’s faintly trying to recall what year it is when he hears Hyungwon fumbling with the lock and slamming the front door, the sound of his shoes being thrown against the wall (even though Hyunwoo has told him one million times to put them down neatly).

 

“Oh, honey.” Hyungwon sighs, dropping to his knees in front of Hyunwoo, pressing the back of his hand to his cheeks. “You’re burning up. Just-- stay here, I’m going to change your sheets.”

 

“You need to get home, you’re going to get sick.” Hyunwoo mumbles, burying his face in his palms. It’s so fucking _hot_ and he just wants to go back to sleep. Hyungwon ignores him, padding to where Hyunwoo keeps the sheets in the closet and yanking the fitted sheet over the mattress sloppily. He’s not too good at domesticity but he’s sweet, managing to wrestle the rest of the sheets and comforter on the bed. He even makes a feeble attempt to lift Hyunwoo onto his feet, tugging at his arm a bit before Hyunwoo stumbles on his feet by his own accord, falling back onto the bed.

 

Hyungwon brushes his thumb over Hyunwoo’s cheekbone, moving to kiss the corner of his mouth with almost unusual tenderness. “I get a flu shot every year because I work with kids, I’ll be fine. Think you can get some soup down?”

 

“No-- just… tea, please.” Hyunwoo groans and his eyes feel crusted shut again, like he could fall asleep again for three days this time. Hyungwon hums under his breath and moves to yank the curtains over the window before leaving with a quick squeeze to Hyunwoo’s thigh. The sound of Hyungwon opening drawers and clinking porcelain mugs together is enough to lull him back to sleep, stomach still twisting with nausea. He’s shaken awake again minutes later to cool lips on his forehead, the smell of hot green tea warm under his nose. Hyunwoo manages to choke down the pill Hyungwon presses to the tip of his tongue, washes it down with tea so hot that it burns the tastebuds off his tongue, and falls back on the pillow with a choked noise.

 

Hyungwon sighs, pushing the wet hair from Hyunwoo’s forehead and slinking into bed next to him. Hyunwoo wants to protest -- he’s damp with sweat, smells like vomit, and his skin is probably one million degrees. Flu shots don’t make Hyungwon invincible either and if he wasn’t already curled so comfortable around Hyunwoo, legs all tangled, he would kick him out of bed. Instead, Hyungwon practically purrs against his neck, slides his cool hands over Hyunwoo’s chest. “How does it feel to be the little spoon, hyung?”

 

“Weird.” Hyunwoo’s mouth is thick with sleep and Hyungwon’s fingers card through his hair again, a kiss pressed to the back of his neck as he attaches himself like a leech to the broad stretch of Hyunwoo’s back. It’s too hot and it should be uncomfortable but the smell of Hyungwon’s shampoo is as sleep-inducing as lavender. He has fever dreams that are too loud and bright, full of images that blur at the edge until they’re just barely unrecognizable. It’s hardly a fulfilling few hours of sleep, mostly fitful and he’s sure he’s accidentally kicked Hyungwon a few times in the shinbone. When he wakes up, he can see the setting sun bleeding in between the curtains and hear Hyungwon’s chest rising and falling, the soft pattern of his breath.

 

It’s relaxing and sweet until he feels his stomach twist again and he barely makes it to the bathroom in time. Hyunwoo doesn’t think he will ever feel happy again, not with his fingers gripping the sink so hard that they ache and his throat burning with acid. In fact, he’s perfectly content dying here, his forehead pressed to the porcelain and his legs close to collapsing under him again. He hears Hyungwon startle and roll out of bed, tiptoeing into the bathroom to soothe his fingers through Hyunwoo’s dirty hair, still lethargic with sleep.

 

“We should take you to the hospital.” Hyungwon croaks, leaning over Hyunwoo to wet a washcloth and wipe it over his forehead. “Or at least to the doctor.”

 

“It’s just a flu bug.” Hyunwoo protests, wincing when Hyungwon not-too-gently scrubs at his mouth. “I just want to go back to bed.”

 

“You’re beginning to sound like me.” Hyungwon laughs, sounding so fond as he kisses the crown of Hyunwoo’s head. “Can you get back into bed? I’ll break my back if I try to help you up.”

 

Hyunwoo grunts, pushing himself off the tiled floor and throwing himself unceremoniously back onto the bed. Hyungwon laughs behind him -- Hyunwoo is _cute_ when he’s sick. Usually he fumbles, his actions impeded by an awkward pause, as if he’s constantly second guessing himself in front of Hyungwon. This Hyunwoo, face buried in the pillow and limbs spread like a starfish, is endearing and Hyungwon wants to pinch his fever-flushed cheeks. He settles for kissing Hyunwoo’s closed eyelids and slinking back into the kitchen to warm up more tea. From the moment he’d stepped into Hyunwoo’s apartment, Hyungwon had known their relationship was going to last. Some of his ex-boyfriends had sterile apartments, white and clean and sickening like a scrubbed down hospital; others had apartments that smelled of sweat and dirty clothes, their furniture hidden under pizza boxes and damp towels.

 

Hyunwoo’s apartment had been comfortably warm; clean without being uncomfortable, messy without being disgusting. His mismatched furniture, the quilt thrown over the couch, the chipped mugs with pictures of Sanrio characters -- it was as charming as Hyunwoo, as safe as him. Hyungwon had loved the family photos Hyunwoo hung up on his fridge, the flower print dish towels, the smell of his cologne and clean laundry in the air. Even now, months later, he still loves the familiarity of it, like knowing where Hyunwoo keeps his spoons and how he puts his sugar into glass jars. Hyungwon listens to the sound of Hyunwoo breathing in the next room, like the lull of an orchestra, as he heats water up on the stove. His boyfriend had managed to choke down a few mouthfuls of citrus tea before puking again so Hyungwon figures it’s safe to make another cup.

 

Hyunwoo is usually the strong one, solid and unmovable like a wall. Hyungwon had melted so easily when he’d heard the scratch, the shake to Hyunwoo’s voice over the phone -- it wasn’t _right_ , it wasn’t his Hyunwoo. Even though he’s cute, even placid like this, it’s unsettling to have Hyunwoo so helpless. Hyungwon prefers his boyfriend tall and strong and able to throw him over his shoulder like a sack of feathers; he’s not exactly used to the worry that gnaws at his stomach. He worries, of course, about himself, about his family, about his friends. But boyfriends are different -- with boyfriends, he wishes them well, waits until they’ve stopped coughing their guts out before he meets them again. Hyunwoo is _different_ \-- Hyunwoo is something to worry over, something to care for, something to nurse back to health.

 

He wasn’t always different -- it wasn’t as if Hyungwon had, from the moment they met, decided Hyunwoo was the one he’d drop everything for. But after all of these months and all the intricacies of Hyunwoo’s personality and feelings, it feels right to him. He’s sure, when he thinks about it, that Hyunwoo would have done the same thing for him and that comforts him more, that their relationship is built upon these levels of trust and familiarity. Maybe it’s simple enough to say that he’s adapted to Hyunwoo in his life, planted him there and grown alongside him, alongside his quirks and his life.

 

“I thought you managed to burn the tea.” Hyunwoo groans, squinting up at Hyungwon even though the room is dim and staring at the Rilakkuma mug he’s holding. Hyungwon rolls his eyes, sitting at the edge of the bed to run his thumb over Hyunwoo’s cheek fondly before holding out a handful of pills.

 

“That’s very funny. Now take your medicine and finish the whole mug. No half assing it, hyung.” Hyungwon orders, his voice wavering into concern. “Try to at least get the pills down, okay?”

 

“It’ll pass.” Hyunwoo exhales sharply as he struggles to sit up, swallows all of the medicine in a choked mouthful and washes it down with scalding tea. “You need to go home. You have work tomorrow and you can still get the flu with the vaccine.”

 

“Go back to sleep.” Hyungwon’s tone softens as he leans forward to press a kiss to Hyunwoo’s temple. “I’ll leave once you’re napping.”

 

When Hyungwon is so sweet and open like this, Hyunwoo finds that he has little room but to obey, slipping back down under the comforter with the tea warm in his stomach. He feels a little less like he’s going to puke his guts out, which is comforting, and that means the pills are going to stay down. That’s enough to ease him back into sleep, just as simple as breathing -- he dreams again, less vivid, more blurry. A full night of sleep is too much to ask for, apparently, because he wakes up again in the middle of the night to the chills -- he knows this part, the part where he sweats out his fever. At least his stomach isn’t trying to kill him anymore, which is the least he could possibly ask for.

 

Hyunwoo gives himself a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, trying to make his vision stop blurring, before moving to get out of bed. It’s only after he flings a leg from the mattress that he realizes Hyungwon is flopped, limp and unmovable, across his chest. He could be mad that Hyungwon didn’t go home like he promised but he’s more endeared by his messy hair, his dark lashes against his cheeks, the soft part of his lips. The slide of Hyunwoo’s thigh from under the sheets is enough to make Hyungwon stir, nuzzling against his blanketed leg in post-sleep confusion.

 

“You okay? Are you going to be sick again?” Hyungwon whispers, blinking the sand from his eyes and sitting up to feel Hyunwoo’s forehead. “You still feel warm.”

 

Hyunwoo peels his hand away, kissing his palm. “And you’re supposed to be home.”

 

Hyungwon at least as the gall to look embarrassed, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. “I know but you were so sick. I was scared.”

 

Hyunwoo thinks his heart is going to pop out of his chest -- it could be his flu with a new symptom but he decides it’s probably the way Hyungwon looks up at him, vulnerable and curled to his chest. If he wasn’t sure that he reeked of sweaty laundry and vomit, he would kiss Hyungwon right then and there, but settles on pecking his forehead. “I’m fine. You, though-- you have to go back to your place. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

 

“I’m fine too.” Hyungwon answers stubbornly, throwing his arms around Hyunwoo’s neck and curling back against his side. “Now sleep, you were a great pillow until you woke me up.”

 

Even sick and puking his lungs out, Hyunwoo is still tied around Hyungwon’s little finger in a knot, held in an iron grip. Hyunwoo can only heave a sigh and lay back down obediently, feeling Hyungwon squirm against him to get comfortable, tossing a leg casually over Hyunwoo’s waist. Hyungwon’s ability to fall asleep in seconds is genuinely incredible, his breath stuttering until it falls into a peaceful pattern, cheek pressed against Hyunwoo’s neck. Hyunwoo has to give him credit -- it’s easier to lull himself back into sleep, despite the churn of his stomach, when his boyfriend is wrapped around him like a snake. A few inhales and exhales and he’s gone again, no dreams this time, just the heavy sleep of exhaustion and sickness. It’s the kind of sleep that leaves an ache in the bones and a cloud in his head, but he prefers it to the fever dreams from before that leave everything in a grainy fuzz the next day.

 

He isn’t woken up in the morning by his stomach or his fever -- despite the general feeling of being dead, he’s actually _alright_. He’s also hungry and his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. His leg is numb from where Hyungwon is still asleep, like a touchy housecat. It’s still early enough in the morning that he could make it to work if he wanted; the idea is dashed when he thinks about having to deal with Wonho after recovering, who is essentially the human manifestation of the flu virus. Hyunwoo gives himself a few minutes to wake up and pet Hyungwon’s sleep-mussed hair, before trying to sneak out of bed again. He doesn’t know why he tries -- for such a heavy sleeper, Hyungwon is quick to wake up when he senses his source of heat trying to escape. Hyungwon squints up at him, shifting to look at the clock before almost socking Hyunwoo in the jaw.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me up for work?” Hyungwon wails, tossing the sheets off of himself only to be trapped like a stray cat by his waist. “Hyung, let go, I’m going to be late.”

 

“I didn’t get to properly thank my nurse.” Hyunwoo mutters against his neck, enjoys the way Hyungwon squirms so feebly to get out of his grip. “Thank you for cleaning up my disgusting, dirty sheets.”

 

“You _reek_.” Hyungwon yowls back, kicks free from Hyunwoo and nearly slips on his socks running into the bathroom. He’s smart enough to keep a toothbrush here and some of those little foil samples of face wash, given that he’s woken up to this scenario at least a dozen times now. Minhyuk still calls it the walk of shame, even six months into their relationship, when Hyungwon shows up to work in wrinkled jeans and one of Hyunwoo’s dress shirts threatening to slip off his shoulder. It’s less a walk of shame today and more a walk of exhaustion, having spent most of yesterday trying to pry Hyunwoo’s mouth open and force him to drink tea. He scrubs his teeth half-heartedly before running wet hands through his hair. He’s already got his pajama pants halfway off his legs when he stumbles back into the bedroom, kicking his jeans from yesterday on. Hyunwoo looks like he’s going to fall asleep again, slumped back against the pillow and watching Hyungwon paw through his drawers before tugging on Hyunwoo’s old university shirt.

 

“Should I leave some medicine on the counter for you or are you okay to get out of bed?” Hyungwon looks so pretty, sliding on Hyunwoo’s shirt, watching it gather around the slim lines of his waist. “I should have called in sick today to take care of you.”

 

“I’m feeling a lot better, I promise. I’ll head back to work tomorrow.” Hyunwoo says, feeling his chest warm when Hyungwon sprays his cologne on himself -- his boyfriend, in his shirt, smelling like him always makes his breath catch. He’s been thinking a lot about this, waking up to Hyungwon in the morning, sharing clothes and cologne and shampoo. He thinks a lot about Hyungwon being a fixture in his apartment, as normal and warm and welcomed as all the little pieces that make his home. Hyungwon has lost half of his things here already; he finds traces of Hyungwon everywhere, from loose socks under his bed to the little bottle of his green tea body wash in the shower.

 

“If you brush your teeth while I make you some tea, I’ll kiss you goodbye.” Hyungwon says it less like it’s an incentive and more like an order. Hyunwoo is always obedient, walks on shaky legs to the bathroom and brushes his teeth with vigor while he listens to Hyungwon clink mugs in the kitchen. When he stumbles into the kitchen, Hyungwon is carefully portioning off pills, a handful of medicine in his palm. The whole apartment smells like citrus tea and Hyungwon, who pecks Hyunwoo on the lips before sliding him his tea. Hyunwoo watches, through lidded eyes, as Hyungwon leans down to tie his sneakers and pats his jean pockets to make sure his keys are there.

 

“I really gotta take off. Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything.” Hyungwon looks at him warily because he _knows_ Hyunwoo won’t. Hyunwoo could fall down ten flights of stairs and he’d still hesitate to call Hyungwon and interrupt him at work. “I’m serious. If I find out you died because you slipped in the shower or something without calling me, I’ll spit on your grave.”

 

“You’re a very charming nurse.” Hyunwoo grimaces, watching Hyungwon’s expression melt into a shy smile. “I earned a proper kiss, I took all of my pills.”

 

“Good boy.” Hyungwon coos, holding Hyunwoo’s chin to kiss him, slow like he’s drawing out a piece of Hyunwoo to keep with him. “Call me during my lunch break or I’ll break your arm.”

 

“You’d break your own arm even trying to do that.” Hyunwoo raises an eyebrow and Hyungwon sticks out his tongue, eyes narrowed, as he locks the door behind him.

* * *

Hyunwoo calls Hyungwon during his lunch break but one of the kids has an accident, something having to do with the soup bowls and the class fish, so he’s gone after a few minutes. Hyunwoo occupies the rest of his time sleeping through drama reruns and ignoring Wonho’s copious text messages about how the new hire, Changkyun, is threatening his position for best nose on the force. He’s about to doze off through a Hello Counselor marathon when he hears the front door open and Hyungwon slipping out of his shoes, watching Hyunwoo peak his head from over the living room couch in surprise.

 

“I thought you said you were going home after work to change clothes.” Hyunwoo says, blinking blearily at the clock -- Hyungwon must have come straight from work to his place, based on the time and the fact that his hair is still flecked with finger paint. Hyungwon rolls his eyes, making his way to the hallway closet and tossing it open, extracting his black coat, the nice one he likes to wear at night.

 

“I was about to get on my train when I remembered the coat I needed for tonight was at your place and all I want to do is take a fucking shower.” Hyungwon whines, tossing his coat onto the kitchen table and curling next to Hyunwoo on the couch. “How are you doing?”

 

“Fine. My fever broke a bit ago.” Hyunwoo murmurs, running his thumb over the curve of Hyungwon’s neck, picking off a piece of dry paint. “You have some of your body wash here if you want to take a shower.”

 

“If that’s alright with you.” Hyungwon says and Hyunwoo pats his thigh in approval, watching him push off the couch and pad into his bedroom. The sound of the shower in the other room is something he could get used to -- just the general presence of Hyungwon in his house, lingering like perfume, makes him feel as ease. The feeling tightens in his stomach, warm and ticklish, when Hyungwon slips back out with damp hair and smelling like soap and clean laundry in one of Hyunwoo’s sleep shirts. He takes back his warm spot next to Hyunwoo, slotting himself against his stomach with a sigh.

“Clean?” Hyunwoo asks, biting back a smile when Hyungwon nods sleepily, gaze fixed on the news broadcast. “Weren’t you supposed to go out tonight?”

 

“Now that I’m here, I don’t want to get off the couch.” Hyungwon mumbles, closing his eyes and burrowing his face against Hyunwoo’s arm. “You smell like my fabric softener. When did you do laundry at my place?”

 

“You brought your laundry stuff here to do a load because your machine broke last week, remember?” Hyunwoo frowns, rubbing Hyungwon’s wet hair between his fingers, feels his boyfriend heave a sigh and push himself tighter against his chest.

 

“Fuck, yeah-- that’s right.” Hyungwon groans, turning over so he can tuck his head under Hyunwoo’s chin. “I swear, my whole fucking apartment is over here. I can’t find shit at my place now.”

 

Hyunwoo has this gut feeling that now is the exact moment that he should ask Hyungwon a question he’d had on the tip of his tongue for at least a month now. If he doesn’t say anything now, this moment is just going to fade into another moment of quiet domesticity and Hyungwon will forget it when his eyes fall again, right into an evening nap. He sits up, enough to jolt Hyungwon out of his place, and reaches to cup Hyungwon’s face, whose expression pinches up in surprise.

 

“What? Are you feeling sick again?” Hyungwon asks, eyes so clear and bright that it almost shuts Hyunwoo up completely.

 

“You keep half of your stuff here and spend half of your time here too. Maybe you should-- you know, you already have the key and you could save money if we split the rent.” Hyunwoo says and then promptly wants to swallow his own foot. The whole spiel sounded far better in his head and now he feels like he’s just running in circles, chasing around his point without actually getting to it. Hyungwon’s gaze doesn’t falter and he tilts his head a bit, swiping his tongue to lick at his lips in interest.

 

“So you’re asking me to move in with you?” Hyungwon raises his eyebrows, looking amused when Hyunwoo’s face starts to visibly pinken. “Is this because I nursed you back from the grave?”

 

“Hyungwon.” Hyunwoo says, sounding a little choked and Hyungwon laughs behind his hand, his eyes crinkling.

 

“Why are you so nervous?” Hyungwon’s smile is still curled up, impish and sweet, dragging his finger down the bridge of Hyunwoo’s nose. “Half of my life is here anyway. Plus, I hate sleeping in bed without you.”

 

“So that’s--” Hyunwoo looks startled and a little dazed, as if Hyungwon is about to take it all back and sweep the rug out from under him.

 

“That means yes.” Hyungwon says and then flushes a bit himself. “Stop looking at me like that.”

 

Like _that_ \-- all Hyunwoo is doing is staring at Hyungwon as if the sun shines wherever he goes. Hyungwon is getting that annoyed purse of his lips again so Hyunwoo settles for crushing him against his chest and kissing his damp hair until Hyungwon is wailing to be let go. He’s occupied thinking about Hyungwon’s clothes hanging next to his in the closet and his food in the cabinet and waking up to him, warm and solid and real, pressed to his side. It’s only after Hyungwon sinks his teeth into Hyunwoo’s arm that he lets go with a laugh, cupping Hyungwon’s cheek sweetly.

 

“Don’t get so excited.” Hyungwon’s face is pink with surprise, his hair messy. “We’re going furniture shopping next week. This couch is stupidly small.”

 

“If I hold you really tight to my chest, then we fit perfectly.” Hyunwoo argues and earns himself a pinch to his stomach. “I thought you liked my apartment.”

 

“I do but I hate your couch.” Hyungwon says with finality, rolling off the couch and slinking into the kitchen with such familiarity that Hyunwoo _knows_ he belongs here. “I’ve been waiting like five months to tell you that.”

  
As much as Hyunwoo’s heart aches for his college futon, it’s a worthy sacrifice to see Hyungwon rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and digging around in the fridge like it’s his own. All of Hyungwon, from his shy smile to his long legs to the way he hums when he makes tea, slots so easily into his life. In a few weeks, waking up to Hyungwon’s legs tangled with his will become normalcy and Hyunwoo welcomes it, welcomes the smell of his hair and the warmth of his breath and the softness of his skin. Hyungwon looks over his shoulder in the kitchen, gives Hyunwoo a pretty smile, and Hyunwoo falls in love all over again.


End file.
